


On the Sidelines

by taylorgibbs



Category: NCIS
Genre: Earthquakes, M/M, h/c
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-24
Updated: 2011-08-24
Packaged: 2017-10-23 00:54:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/244460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taylorgibbs/pseuds/taylorgibbs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The DC earthquake is just one of the things that rattles Gibbs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On the Sidelines

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Tejas for the beta.  
> An earthquake hit the DC area on 8/23 and severely rattled a lot of nerves. There was no damage at my home, and after things calmed down, my thoughts turned to how our boys would deal with the aftermath. Hope you enjoy!

Gibbs reached for his gun before he even knew what the problem was. He was startled awake by a rumble, and his subconscious must have assumed a truck was driving by. But then the rumbling increased and he scrambled out of bed, gun in hand. When the floor wavered, he knew.

“Earthquake!” he yelled, motioning toward the doorway, hastily putting his gun aside. “Get under the desk in the spare room! Now!” Gibbs raced after Tony’s naked ass and into the spare room, diving under the desk with the other man. They scrunched up together between firm wood and waving floor, their breathing heavy in the room. Gibbs could hear Tony’s grunts as the desk heaved, probably jostling his ribs. The rattling sound faded away until Gibbs could only hear their harsh breathing. He matched his exhalations to Tony’s and tried to slow his hammering heart. The adrenaline rush was familiar to him, even if the cause was a rare one here in the DC area.

Gibbs closed his eyes, the warmth of Tony’s body soothing him. Shaking from the rush, Gibbs leaned in,seeking Tony’s body heat. It was a pretty warm day—not as hot as most had been this summer—and they’d had the ceiling fan blowing on them. As usual, Tony’d kicked off the sheets. Now they were sitting on the cool floor in the spare room, and that combined with the shock and rush of adrenaline, had chilled Gibbs. He needed Tony’s warmth.

“Time’s it?” Tony asked, his voice a little muzzy even though his eyes were clear, his expression wary and watchful, his hands wrapped around his knees.

Gibbs glanced at his wrist, the bright orange band assaulting his eyes. He hated the damn band, but Tony’d bought him the watch—with this band and a metal one—and had shown a huge amount of favoritism toward the brightly colored leather. So he sucked it up like a good Marine and wore the neon orange band.

“Almost two.”

“And that was an earthquake? In DC?”

“Yeah…” Gibbs had been through a few when he’d been stationed in California, and later when he’d worked for NCIS out there, and it was a memory he hadn’t forgotten. The intensity of this one had been stronger than the ones he’d remembered, similar in some ways, and yet different. But still unmistakably a quake.

“Better get dressed and check things out,” Tony said. He started to get out from under the desk, but Gibbs grabbed his arm, forcibly pulling him back, eliciting a groan from Tony. Gibbs winced and released Tony’s arm, but didn’t comment on the groan.

“Wait another minute. Could be some bad aftershocks.” He soothed Tony by drawing circles along Tony’s arm and wrist with his fingertips.

Tony sighed and coughed once, but settled himself back down, his chin resting on his knees. The position couldn’t be comfortable, but safety was more important than comfort right now. His cell phone went off a second before Tony’s and Gibbs shook his head, glancing toward the bedroom and the sound of the ringtones.

“Not yet. Thirty more seconds.” He knew NCIS would be calling. Even though they had a mandatory forty-eight hours off after a two-week-long case had them all strung out and exhausted, NCIS would need them for a natural disaster. After the case had been wrapped up, at 0900 today, they’d been advised—ordered—to go home and get some sleep.

That had only been a few hours ago, but they had enough sleep behind them to make it work. “Come on,” Gibbs said, consulting his watch. “Get dressed, we’ll check out the house, the neighborhood. Then work.”

“On it,” Tony replied. Gibbs noticed that he scrambled out from under the desk a little slower than usual. Tony’d been in hot pursuit of the suspect this morning. In a final burst of speed, he’d made a fantastic tackle, but his momentum had tumbled them down into a ditch. Tony had dark bruises all along his torso, the worst on the left side of his ribcage. Nothing was broken, but DiNozzo had to be hurting.

Once they got into the bedroom, Tony faltered. His work clothes were torn and muddy and they hadn’t done laundry in over two weeks. Tony probably had a pair of tattered jeans around, but Gibbs doubted he had anything work friendly to wear up top. All his reserve clothes were back at his place, though he spent most of his time at Gibbs’.

At least they’d showered when they’d gotten home, mopped the grime off themselves, rinsed the mud out of Tony’s hair, let the hot water soothe his aching torso. They were both clean; that had to count for something. And neither of them would want to put on dirty clothes, Gibbs knew.

Gibbs grabbed his own oldest and most worn working-around-the-house jeans, tattered at the cuffs and worn in the groin and knees. He had no clean boxers, so he’d just have to make do. The ones he’d bought at Sears sometime last week were still at work, and he could always put them on there.

“Jethro?” Tony asked, hand on his side. He was trying to hide his wince, but Gibbs knew that the quick scramble and crouch underneath the desk hadn’t done DiNozzo any good.

“Grab a shirt, whatever you want. Need socks too?”

“Yeah.” A little color darkened Tony’s cheeks, and Gibbs gave him a small smile.

“Been busy. Don’t worry.” Gibbs strode to the dresser and yanked out a couple pairs of thick socks, tossing one pair to Tony. “They’re not tube socks, they gonna slow you down?”

“Hardly,” Tony cracked back, giving Gibbs a pained smile as he gingerly bent to pull them on. The other man had on his low riding black jeans, the ones that hugged Tony’s ass—and crotch—as if they were a second skin, the ones that were worn to threads right over the balls and at the crease where ass met thigh. Gibbs gulped hard, shaking his head. He needed to forget about tearing those damn jeans off Tony and keep his mind on what they needed to do. Getting dressed instead of stripping.

He grabbed a paint-flecked black button down for himself and tossed Tony a dark green long sleeved T-shirt, a little stretched out in the collar, but otherwise wearable. The other man was pulling his clothes on as fast as Gibbs knew his bruised ribs would allow and Gibbs tried not to be irritated. He shoved his feet in boots and rocked back and forth, reaching for his gun, his badge, wallet. They might not make it back here anytime soon.

Their phones rang again, Tony’s ringtone, some movie quote, warring with Gibbs’ chime. He ignored them both, coming over to Tony and cupping his cheek. “Ya need some pain meds?”

“I’m fine,” Tony said, eyes suddenly blazing, a muscle in his jaw twitching. Gibbs could hear the clack as Tony’s teeth came together. Gibbs nodded, leaving him alone to finish getting dressed. He wouldn’t hover over Tony, wouldn’t make a big deal of his lover’s bumps and bruises, even if they were a little close to Tony’s lungs and Gibbs wasn’t altogether comfortable with his harsh breathing.

Gibbs reluctantly left Tony and headed down to the basement, checking the structural integrity of the house and the pipes. When he walked outside five minutes later, he saw Tony examining the foundation of the house. He was bent over, ass up, and Gibbs had to catch his breath at the sight.

A few of Gibbs’ neighbors were out, many of the older and elderly residents looking around their homes. Gibbs couldn’t squeeze Tony’s ass, as much as he’d like to, or even give it a good long look, eyes tracing the worn patches that almost—but not quite—exposed Tony’s skin.

“Find anything?” he asked, resting a hand on Tony’s lower back. He knew he shouldn’t be touching DiNozzo at all out here, but he couldn’t resist. He pulled his hand back quickly, hoping the touch had been so slight that none of the neighbors had seen. They all looked preoccupied with their own earthquake damage assessments.

“Hairline crack here,” Tony said, motioning to a small split in the paint. “Is that new.”

Gibbs glanced down, shaking his head. “Nope. Twenty years old. Been here a long time. Engineer checked it out awhile back and said it was fine.”

Tony cocked his head looking up at Gibbs. Every bit of Gibbs’ protective nature rose up, and he had to clench his hands into fists so that he didn’t touch his lover again, didn’t smooth away then tense and pained lines of his face. But they were in public, and Gibbs had no interest in outing them to his neighbors. He’d already taken a chance with the hand on the lower back thing, but he was fairly confident it had gone unnoticed.

“Gibbs, I just talked to Abby. She’s okay, a little shaky. McGee called her. He and Ziva didn’t feel it as badly as us in Virginia, I don’t think. Nobody’s got any damage, they’re just a little shaken up.” Tony continued to look at the crack for a few more moments, prodding it with a finger.

“Anyone hear from Duck?”

“No,” Tony said, his phone chiming. He straightened up gingerly, staring at the display on the smart phone pod thingy that he had.

“What’s that?” Gibbs asked, angling his head toward the phone.

“Palmer. He lost a couple of his Cirque du Soleil glasses, some stuff off his counter. He talked to Ducky and they’re fine.”

Gibbs nodded, opening his phone and clumsily going to the speed dial menu. His big fingers didn’t always work the phone so well. Gibbs dialed NCIS, moving closer to Tony, close enough that he could feel the other man’s body heat. Probably closer than he should have, considering the neighbors were in their yards across the street.

“Go over there and help, Tony,” he muttered and Tony nodded, trotting across the street. He looked a little stiff and sore and Gibbs followed his movements with his eyes, hand tightening on the phone.

He was soon put through to Vance, who told Gibbs to keep his phone on, but insisted that the backup MCRT had it covered. He’d call the agents in if necessary, but unless called, they were to maintain their time off.

Gibbs grunted his thanks, disconnected the call, and strode across the street to Mrs. McAdams, the elderly neighbor across street. Tony was talking to her, rubbing her arm gently.

“Everything okay?” Gibbs asked, stopping in front of Tony and Mrs. McAdams.

“Elizabeth wants us to check on her gas fittings. You want to do that? You’re better at it than I am.”

Gibbs nodded, giving Tony a look. The neighbors didn’t know they were together, just that Tony was one of his agents. He wondered if they found it strange that Tony’s car was at Gibbs’ house in the middle of the day.

Gibbs went around to the back of the house and checked the fittings as best he could and then disappeared into the elderly woman’s house, making sure there was no scent of natural gas inside. Everything was clear and he walked out of the house slowly, coming around to the front, Mrs. McAdams and Tony had been joined by a couple of their neighbors, and Gibbs’ gut twisted a little bit. What Tony and he had was work…and home, but not outside of home. He liked keeping everything separate and this wasn’t…good. Gibbs didn’t think Tony would give them away, but this wasn’t a comfortable situation for him.

“And you two should come over for Sunday lunch sometime…”

Gibbs blinked a few times at Howard and Violet Banks, who were standing very close to Tony. Howard had a gentle smile on his face and Violet looked as taken with Tony as most women. She clung to his arm, giggling and gazing up at him. An unexpected bolt of jealousy tore through Gibbs and he had to swallow back his growl.

“Jethro! Your Tony has offered to help us inspect the foundation of our place,” Howard said, thick mustache quivering. “He’s a good man.”

“My Tony?” Gibbs asked, unable to get past that phrase.

“Well, yes, dear,” Elizabeth said, beaming up at Tony. “Jethro, we’re all retired, and we have nothing else to do at night but sit on the porch and play cards.”

“And cheat at poker,” Violet added, sharing an elaborate wink with Gibbs. “And drink wine, or beer, for Howard.”

“And…well…” Elizabeth’s cheeks darkened. “We’ve seen the comings and goings at your place, Jethro. With your work hours, we like to keep an eye on things, and…” She leaned in close, whispering in her loudest voice. “We see things.”

“Things?” Gibbs asked, still treading carefully.

“It’s okay, Jethro. We’re modern folks. Why, Violet and Elizabeth even watch that Torchwood show. And Brad, our nephew, doctor at Bethesda, did you know that? He and Emma got divorced last year, and he’s seeing a lovely young man. Martin works in DC. For the government.”

Gibbs blinked a few times. They couldn’t possibly be talking about the same doctor who had treated Tony, could they? He glanced at Tony who winked and nodded. Gibbs gave a small nod and tried to piece the rest of what they’d said together. “Torchwood?” It was as if they were speaking a different language.

“That pretty boy, Jack. It wasn’t the same after Ianto, and….Oh! That doesn’t really matter, Jethro. What does is you and your Tony,” Violet said, squeezing Tony’s arm and gazing up at him.

“My Tony?” Gibbs dared to look at DiNozzo, who was grinning at him.

“Yep! Your Tony,” Tony replied with the first real smile Gibbs had seen in days. That did something else entirely different to his gut. “They could give us a run for our money. They even know which bedroom lights are on and off. And how many of them are in use any specific night.”

Tony gave Gibbs a little sheepish shrug. “They know, and they’re okay with it, so don’t think of snarling.” He glanced around for a moment, extracting himself gently from the elderly woman before snuggling close, pressing against Gibbs. Jethro blinked as he realized his lover was shaking slightly. Gibbs tightened his arm fractionally, bringing Tony closer while protecting his ribs from an additional jostling.

“It’s okay, Jethro,” Tony said, his voice muffled by Gibbs’ shirt. Gibbs could feel the tension, the adrenaline rush, draining away from Tony, and he hugged the other man closer still, feeling both relaxed and concerned about Tony at the same time. Feeling protective over both his agent and lover. Tony settled in, chin on Gibbs shoulder, but Gibbs wanted to make sure his lover wasn’t straining muscles or tendons that had been bruised or stretched in this morning’s suspect chase.

Gibbs glanced around at his neighbors and nodded his thanks. He eased Tony into a chair on Elizabeth’s porch, muttering that he’d been injured in the line of duty and that Gibbs would do any inspecting. As expected, the women flitted around Tony, petting his hair, clucking over him and offering him a glass of sweet tea.

Gibbs glanced at Howard, not quite able to believe they’d accept Tony this easily. In his world, life wasn’t so simple. Relationships weren’t this easy.

“It really is okay,” Howard echoed as they crossed the street to his house, his expression softening. “You’re a good man, Jethro, and a damn good neighbor, if I do say so myself. We have every expectation that Tony is, as well.” Howard gave Gibbs a nod and a very fond smile. “Its high time you grasped life again. And if it is with that man…well, those who judge you don’t know you. Take advantage of this event and make it more permanent. Life is too short to be on the sidelines.”

And as Gibbs turned and watched Tony, memories of the near-miss today, he realized Howard was exactly right. He wasn’t going to be on the sidelines any more.


End file.
